A few months ago, I struggled with how much money one gives Poem Store's Jacqueline Suskin when she states, "your subject your price." I agonized over this for weeks despite the best intention of requesting a poem quickly. One Sunday afternoon, I devised a plan: empty my wallet of all paper money (no matter what it is) and send it with the accompanying (inarticulate) text:
"This is something I think about all the time and would love to know what you would write: That intense longing and sadness that comes from seeing birds migrate through, knowing you can't follow them to the warm in the winter and the cool in the summer (but someday you will die trying)."
Last week, Jacqueline sent the far more eloquent poem below:
It now resides in my wallet next to the found $2 from Clemson, South Carolina, a Metro card with Nick Cave's Sound Suits, and a "ticket out of Indiana" from my father.